Old love, old love, / How can I be true? / Shall I be faithless to myself / Or to you?
Sara TeasdaleWith my singing I can make, a refuge for my spirit's sake; a house of shining words, to be my fragile immortality.
Sara TeasdaleWhen I am dead, and over me bright April Shakes out her rain drenched hair, Tho you should lean above me broken hearted, I shall not care. For I shall have peace. As leafey trees are peaceful When rain bends down the bough. And I shall be more silent and cold hearted Than you are now
Sara TeasdaleI saw a star slide down the sky Blinding the north as it went by Too buring and too quick to hold Too lovely to be bought or sold Good only to make wishes on And then forever to be gone
Sara Teasdale